


Base Instincts and Fine Things

by ConceptaDecency



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Deadly Sins Garak/Bashir Fest, M/M, Quark's Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-30 20:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19411264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConceptaDecency/pseuds/ConceptaDecency
Summary: Quark's had enough of Garak moping around the bar.





	1. Tojal and Yamok Sauce

**Author's Note:**

> This story is not 100% canon-compliant in terms of timeline and I know it. Ah well. Maybe a Q did it.

Garak was doing it again, and Quark was a little tired of seeing him like this.

“You know, he’d sleep with you if you just told him you were interested.”

“I beg your pardon?” Garak, who had been subtly but intently studying the goings-on on the other side of the bar, turned his attention to Quark.

“Doctor Bashir." Obviously. Quark set the second glass of kanar in front of Garak. "He’s not picky. He'll sleep with anyone. Any gender. Any species.”

“Well, good for him. I do admire his open mind.” 

“I’ve seen him leave the bar with older men before.”

“And why would I care about Doctor Bashir’s sexual preferences?” 

“You’re interested in him, aren’t you?”

“As a friend, yes. Certainly not in the way you’re implying.”

“Come _on_ , Garak. You said yourself that his uniform would look better on your bedroom floor than it did on him.” 

“ _Excuse me_ , Quark? I assure you I have never said anything of the sort.”

“But you did. That day you were taken ill in the bar.” Quark didn’t say ‘more desperately drunk than I’ve ever seen you before or since’, although it had to have been more than mere drunkenness because Garak had collapsed in the bar and been beamed to the infirmary. This part was definitely never to be mentioned. Discretion was the bartender’s creed, after all. Unless of course disclosing secrets could lead to higher profit than keeping them. “After I told you that I’d called Doctor Bashir to come, um, help you out.”

“That doesn’t sound at all like something I would say.” Garak snorted disdainfully. 

It sounded exactly like something Garak would say, but Quark decided not to press the issue. “Okay, fine. It's not something you would say. I must be thinking of someone else. But you’ve been mooning over him all evening.” And it wasn’t the first time, either.

“I am not _mooning_ over Doctor Bashir. Really, Quark.” Garak turned back to his PADD.

“Sure you aren't. Then why do you keep looking over at him?” Quark inclined his head across the room, where Bashir, O’Brien, Dax, Sisko, and a few other staff members were engaging in spirited ‘team-building’ around one of Quark’s larger tables. 

“I’m reading one of his ridiculous Terran novels,” Garak said, jabbing the PADD with one disdainful finger. “I can’t help but glance over when I’m moved to wonder how an otherwise intelligent man can consider such tripe ‘a work of genius’.” 

Quark craned his neck to read the PADD. " _Wuthering Heights_. Huh. That one's pretty popular in the holosuites, you know. There must be something to it." 

"I'm told 'Beefy Tellarite Daddy' is also popular in the holosuites, but I certainly wouldn't hold it up as a crowning cultural achievement. Though who can say with Tellarites."

"Don't knock it till you've tried it. You never know. It might be exactly to your taste."

"Is that all, Quark? I really wanted a quiet evening." 

"If you'd wanted a quiet evening you wouldn't have come to Quark's. You'd have stayed home with your book and your kanar. But you're here because for some reason you want to torture yourself by watching Doctor Bashir put the moves on someone who's not you." Indeed, Bashir was currently chatting very happily with a tall, well-toned Bajoran at the next table. A new staff member at the fitness centre, fresh off the transport from Bajor, if Quark recalled correctly.

"Quark, why do you insist on rehashing this tiresome subject? I've no more interest in Doctor Bashir's romantic pursuits than I have in yours."

"Well, _thank_ you, Garak." Quark allowed a little polite sarcasm to edge his voice. "Luckily I don't feel the same way about you. You're my valued customer and I want you to be happy."

"Please, don't bother."

"You're only saying that because you don't realise you're talking to an expert. I've been observing people getting together in this bar for a long time, and I can tell you that Doctor Bashir would be open to an advance from you."

"Oh, would he? He seems more than content with his current company. I've no desire to be the salt."

 _Don't salt tojal and yamok sauce_. Quark had lived among Cardassians long enough to know that common aphorism. Tojal and yamok sauce, the perfect culinary combination. To add garnish, condiment, or additional flavouring of any sort would be positively vulgar. Every culture that valued monogamy had at least one saying like it, even if, like the hew-mon idiom about being a third wheel, it didn't really make a lot of sense. But then, hew-mons seemed to vary a great deal in their approach to monogamy. 

"Is that what’s holding you back? Garak, what makes you so sure you'd be the salt? You could just as well be the yamok sauce he's been waiting for. I've seen the way he looks at you." 

"Nonsense. He looks at everyone like that." Garak made an exaggerated show of turning his attention back to his PADD. 

"He does not. He never looked at Leeta like that. And by the way, can I remind you that they broke up nearly two months ago."

"So?" Garak was still focused on his PADD.

"So? It's time for you to do something. You gave him a chance to get over the breakup, but leave it too long and he's going to find someone else. That muscle-bound Bajoran, for example."

"I'd be delighted for him if he did," said Garak, pointedly not turning around to look at the doctor, who, along with Dax, was laughing at something the Bajoran in question had said.

"Garak." Quark spread his hand over the screen of the PADD and pushed it down so he could look at Garak’s face properly. "I'm serious. You need to get in there now, while he’s still available." 

“Quark.” Garak’s eyes were cold and his voice was edged with ice. Which was a good thing, because although he was probably the most dangerous person on the station most days, Quark had realised long ago that Garak presented the greatest potential risk when he was being genial and polite. An openly hostile Garak, on the other hand, was not to be feared, particularly. He was only trying to frighten Quark off. 

Anyway, Garak _wanted_ to be persuaded. That much Quark was sure of. 

“Go talk to him, Garak."

"Good night, Quark." Garak knocked back his kanar and set the empty glass firmly on the table. 

"What have you got to lose?" Quark had seen it all. He knew every excuse. "Are you worried about your friendship? Just stop and think about it. Have you known him not to stay friends with someone after he's slept with them?"

Garak had slid off the stool, but he didn't hurry away. "That's irrelevant."

"Of course it's relevant. You want him. He wants you." Quark waved away Garak's dismissive snort. "If you sleep with him and it doesn't work out, you'll almost certainly be able to salvage the friendship. And you'll have slept with him. If you don't sleep with him, you'll just have a friendship and a cold bed. Garak. It's a sure investment."

"I prefer not to make choices about who I take or don't take to my bed based on their worthiness as _investments_." 

"Uh huh." It was his loss. Appraising everything in life as an investment certainly helped to clarify things for Quark. "Well, however you look at it, you come out better if you make a move. So why don't you go over there? If you're worried about Chief O'Brien, just wait a few minutes. His wife's due back on the station tonight, so he'll be leaving after this round." It was a certainty. The chief's family had been away for weeks.

"I don't know why you think I'd be worried about Chief O'Brien. I'm fond of Botanist Ishikawa but I'm sure their relationship is no concern of mine."

"Ha ha." Quark let Garak's deliberate misunderstanding of his point go. "So it's Sisko? I get it. It's awkward to hit on someone in front of their boss. But he'll be gone too, after a round or two." Sisko, Quark had observed, was the sort of leader who knew when to make an exit. It was something Quark appreciated about the man -- people tended to drink more when they didn't have to worry about their bosses remembering their drunken antics the next day. "Why don't you sit back down and have another glass of kanar? I promise I'll leave you alone."

Garak narrowed his eyes, but he got back onto the stool. "Very well."

"You'll see. O'Brien and Sisko'll clear out in half an hour. Then you can make your move." Quark slid the third glass of kanar, a smokey Porot Ssel, over the bar. It was a slow-drinking variety that hopefully would keep Garak at the bar until, with Quark's help, he got up the courage to approach Doctor Bashir.

"Quark, I assure you, I have no 'move' to make."

This time it was Quark's turn to deliberately misunderstand. "What do you mean you have no move to make? Go over there and pick a fight with him like you always do. Just touch him a little more than usual and at the end of the night ask him to your quarters to see your...kotra board. Or whatever."

"My kotra board?" Garak raised his eye ridges. "Is that your best suggestion?" 

" _Or whatever_. You know what I mean, Garak. It's just an excuse. You talk like you've never taken anyone home before." 

"I thought you were going to leave me alone, Quark."

"Fine, fine. I aim to please."

"Thank you," said Garak imperiously.

"As if you don't want someone to talk you into going over there," Quark muttered under his breath, softly enough, he knew, that Garak could pretend not to have heard.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that." With the soft inner sleeve of his suit, Garak wiped at the fingerprints Quark had left on his PADD.

"I said I'll tell you when Sisko and O'Brien leave."

"That won't be necessary."

"Have it your way." Quark leaned on the bar with a sense of finality. "So, what are you going to do about the import tariff increase? I don't want to put up my prices again, but I don't like the way it's eating into my bottom line. I've got half a mind to talk to Sisko. See if a word from the Emissary would persuade the Trade Minister. I'm not sure Sisko’ll listen to me, though. Maybe if all the Promenade merchants got together..."

"Quark, don't you have other customers to serve?"

"Not really." Quark looked around ruefully. It wasn't completely true. There was a bit of a buzz around the place, fine for a night in the middle of the transport cycle, and he could certainly be doing something else if he wanted to be. But he wasn't about to leave Garak moping at the bar. A bartender had to take care of his regulars, and anyway, a mopey Cardassian was bad for business. "The waiters have got the floor covered, and with Morn away, well, you know how it is sometimes when your best customer isn't around."

Garak gave him such a look. "Are you quite certain you don't have any other tasks to complete?"

"Oh! Did you mean _alone_ alone?" They both knew Quark's surprised chagrin was fake. "I thought you just wanted me to stop talking about Doctor Bashir."

" _Alone_ alone, Quark. If you don't mind." 

"Okay, fine. He's coming over here anyway." And he was, striding towards the bar on those freakishly long hew-mon legs. "Remember what I said about more touching. And not the shoulders -- hew-mons couldn't care less. Try the..."

" _Thank you_ , Quark." Garak’s voice cut across Quark's firmly but ever so politely. He smiled and adjusted his sleeves with seeming nonchalance. "I'll consider your invitation to join the other merchants in approaching Captain Sisko about the tariffs. Perhaps you're right that he'd be willing to discuss it with the minister if we asked him to." 

"Hello Garak, Quark," said the doctor, aiming a warm grin at Garak and barely giving Quark a glance. If Garak didn't actually realise that Bashir was completely infatuated with him, Quark had his doubts about the man's effectiveness as an Obsidian Order agent. "Talking business?"

"We'd just concluded, Doctor, I'm sure you'll be glad to hear. It would have been of no interest to you." Garak smiled brightly and patted the doctor's arm.

Perfect. Just the kind of jibe that would provoke the doctor.

"Well, I don't know about that," Bashir said, frowning a little and turning his full attention to Garak. As if Quark wasn't even there. "I'd actually be very interested to hear more about the effect these tariffs are having on your business. You know, I was reading about them, and..." 

Any decent bartender knew exactly when and how to find something else to do, and just like that the lines for the Andoria pale ale desperately needed adjusting. Quark retreated but continued to listen — it really wasn’t difficult, with Ferengi ears — in case he was needed. Garak was taking his time removing his hand from the doctor's arm, and the doctor, who must have come up to the bar to order something, wasn't even trying to get Quark's attention. Across the room, first O'Brien and then Sisko finished up their drinks and made their excuses to the rest of the group, but, though they each glanced in the doctor's direction, left without saying goodbye. Dax, still chatting with the brawny Bajoran, caught Quark's eye and tilted her head approvingly in the direction of Bashir and Garak, then grinned and waggled her eyebrows as she tested the Bajoran's proffered bicep. 

And so Quark's buzzed and blinked and hummed and the dabo wheels chirped and rattled throughout the evening. Quark busied himself behind the bar, far enough away so as to be unobtrusive, but always listening. Garak, whose business acumen had to be admired, teasingly countered the doctor’s naive points about tariffs and taxes, before deftly moving the conversation on to the novel he was reading. And even though he eventually remembered that he’d come up to the bar for a reason and ordered one springwine and then another, the doctor didn’t move from Garak’s side and in fact leaned in closer as the place got louder and he had to make an effort to be heard. Accordingly, Garak’s hand migrated from Bashir’s arm to his waist, and the doctor didn’t seem to mind at all. Across the bar, Dax and the Bajoran were similarly arranged, and after another round or two left together, arm in arm. 

The doctor and Garak remained, however. Deep in conversation, eyes flashing, no time for the rest of the galaxy. Each of their glasses was about a third full, had been for ages, the warming drinks untouched and becoming increasingly unpalatable. 

It was time for a little nudge.

"Another round, gentlemen?"

Bashir looked at Quark, startled. "Erm. I don't know. Garak, are you having another?"

"No, Doctor, I think I've had enough. I was actually planning to have a quiet cup of tea at home and go to bed. Perhaps you'd like to join me?" He tilted his head and smiled at Bashir, who beamed back. "It's something from Cardassia that I managed to procure recently. I'd be interested in your opinion." He shot Quark a look that said _kotra board, really?_

"Oh, yes, that sounds lovely. Just the thing." 

"Splendid. I do appreciate your adventurous character, Doctor. It might be bit unusual for you at first, but once you've got used to it I think you'll quite like it."

"I look forward to finding out," Bashir replied, and Garak gave him an affectionate squeeze around the hip and pulled him towards the exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "But Concepta, where's the sin?" Oh, stay tuned and learn! Chapter Two will be posted tomorrow, just under the wire for the end of this event! 
> 
> I would love it if you left a comment or a kudos. I treasure each and every one, and will always reply to comments, even if sometimes I'm very late doing so. 
> 
> I am so grateful to my friends in fandom [zaan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaan/pseuds/zaan) and [AlexisaFanST](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexisaFanST/pseuds/AlexisaFanST) for betaing and giving me a kickstart when I was stuck (for weeks!) on the end of this fic.


	2. One Heart but Two Lobes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quark realises the error of his sinful, sinful ways.

"Goodnight," Quark called to their retreating backs as they slipped off through the waning crowd. Good. He was glad he'd done something about it. Hopefully he wouldn't see Garak sulking around again any time soon. Quark picked up the glasses Garak and Doctor Bashir had left behind and dumped the flat, lukewarm springwine into the reclaimer sink, but paused before doing the same to the kanar. It was a shame to toss away nearly half a glass of expensive liquor. Garak was the only Cardassian on the station, anyway, so would it be so terrible to just pour it back into the bottle? No one else would be drinking from it. 

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching too closely, Quark grabbed the glass and the bottle and took them into the back room. He set them on the counting table and, with an expert hand, poured the thick liquid into the bottle's narrow neck without spilling a drop. With no small measure of satisfaction, he re-corked the bottle and turned to place it on the shelf. A slip of latinum saved was a slip of latinum earned, after all. Rule of Acquisition Number 120. 

"Health and safety not a priority in this establishment, Quark?"

Quark gasped. The heavy bottle slipped from his hand and was saved only by a shimmering tentacle of goo flinging itself out and catching it mere centimetres from the steel mesh floor. He spun around just in time to see Odo reforming his appendage into a humanoid arm, the heavy bottle curled in what was becoming his hand.

"Odo, you startled me. What are you doing here?" 

"I'm making sure you don't poison your customers. I doubt Doctor Bashir would be pleased to know that you're violating several health regulations." Doctor Bashir, as Chief Medical Officer of the station, was ostensibly in charge of all health and safety concerns, although Quark doubted anything but the most egregious cases made it to his eyes. Odo was just trying to tweak his lobes. As his heart rate returned to normal, Quark scanned the room. What had Odo been this time? His attention alighted on the counting table, which was now empty. Ah, of course. 

"Poison my customers!” Quark sputtered. “You should talk about health and safety, Odo! You can't just come into my bar and pretend to be my glassware! Poor Garak had his _mouth_ on you. It's disgusting. Who knows what kind of filthy places you've been?"

__

__

"There is no regulation against station personnel assuming the form of glassware in the course of performing their duties, Quark," said Odo, all kinds of smug. "There are, however, multiple ordinances forbidding the reintroduction of contaminated food or beverages into containers for public consumption."

"Well, that's just dandy, but I'm not breaking any ordinances because that Porot SSel is for my own consumption."

"Oh, really? I had no idea you liked kanar. Especially Porot Ssel. I'm told it's a bit of an acquired taste even among Cardassians." Odo spin-tossed the bottle in the air. Quark's breath stilled in his throat until Odo caught the bottle again.

"Well, that just goes to show you don't know me as well as you think you do. I happen to enjoy some of the finer kanars from time to time. Odo, stop that!" Quark tried to keep calm, but Odo was rotating the bottle in his hand and seemed ready to give it another toss. Quark snatched the bottle away and cradled it safely in his arms. 

Odo snorted. "It's just as well you do, Quark. I don't think Garak will be drinking much of your Porot Ssel in the immediate future."

"What do you mean?" That would be bad. No one else on the station drank kanar, and the stuff didn't last forever. 

"Doctor Bashir and Garak just left the bar together, presumably to engage in sexual relations." 

"Oh, so you understood that, did you? I was sure it would go over your head." What was Odo getting at? 

Odo seemed to roll his illusory eyes. "I may not be obsessed with sex like you solids, but I can recognise mating behaviour. Especially when it's that blatant. What I don't understand is why you were encouraging it." 

"Don't you want Garak to be happy? I thought he was your friend." 

“Hmmph. If _that's_ what makes him happy I’m delighted for him. But if he's not feeling sorry for himself anymore he won't be drowning his sorrows here in Quark's. I’d be surprised if they left their quarters much at all in the next few weeks. Maybe months.”

__

__

Well, damn the revenuers to the flimsiest vault of hell. Odo had a point. Why _had_ he been so eager to push Garak into Doctor Bashir’s arms? A mopey Cardassian might be a little off-putting to some of his Bajoran customers, but at least Garak had been drinking up the kanar before it reached the end of its shelf life. And Doctor Bashir was one of his best holosuite customers. Quark resisted the urge to groan aloud. It was his accursed people-pleasing. Every coin had two sides, as Moogie always said, and every book two ledgers. Or more. As much as his desire to charm had helped him as a bartender and a businessman, it occasionally led him to be just too, too nice. 

__

__

“What’s the matter, Quark? Nothing to say?"

"I have plenty to say, Odo. But you don't want to hear it."

"Oh? Try me." Odo's ears became larger and rounder, which was just obnoxious given that Quark was fairly certain Odo didn't use them for actual listening anyway.

"I made a mistake, okay? I like Garak. I saw how often he was in here pining over Doctor Bashir and not doing a thing about it, and my _regard_ for him overruled my common sense." Quark practically spat the word 'regard' through his teeth. "I'm not _proud_ of it." Indeed, his mind raced through the Rules of Acquisition he'd violated. Number 21: Never place friendship above profit. Number 122: You have one heart but two lobes. And of course, so applicable in so many situations, Number 285: No good deed ever goes unpunished.

____

____

“A cutthroat like you made a decision based on your _feelings_? Ha! And I’m joining the crew of a Klingon freighter." Odo spoke in the condescending, sing-song voice he loved using to show he didn't believe Quark. "As head cook."

__

__

"You're unbearable, you know that, Odo? I open my heart to you and you don't even have the courtesy to believe me." Quark sighed and hugged the kanar bottle to his chest. "I thought after all these years you knew me better than that."

"I know you very well, Quark, which is why I'll be watching you. You’re definitely up to something.”

“ _Fine_ , Odo. It’s not like you aren’t watching me all the time anyway.” Although extra scrutiny was hardly what Quark needed right now, when he faced the prospect of having lost two of his best customers, and by his own actions! 

__

__

Quark idly brushed the raised pattern on the bottle’s neck. How sad, on top of everything else, to have an unsaleable bottle of top-shelf kanar. An utter waste, because _Quark_ was certainly not going to drink it. The last time he'd sampled kanar, it had taken two large cups of bitter beetle tea to wash the vile sticky sweetness out of his mouth. Just imagining the feeling of the stuff gooshing between his teeth made his gorge rise. 

__

__

Although...should he? Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea. Clever, effective, and he deserved no better. Swiftly, before he could think of a good reason not to, Quark snatched a glass from the shelf.

“Quark? What are you doing?” 

“You want to watch me, Odo? Just watch me.” Quark poured himself a generous serving of Porot Ssel, and as quickly as possible took a swig. He nearly gagged up the viscous liquor as it hit the back of his throat. By the blessed bankers, Porot Ssel was a particularly pungent kanar. How was it possible for something to be so sickeningly sweet yet so astringent it practically burned the hair out of his nose? Quark swallowed, thankfully without vomiting.

“Quark. Stop it,” said Odo. There was a tinge of distress in his voice. Odo did not like chaos. 

“No. I told you, it’s for my personal consumption. I love kanar.” Quark took a second slug, then slammed the drink down on the table and put his head in his hands as the sweet, cloggy liquid slid down his throat smoothly as drain cleaner. 

“You clearly do _not_ love it.” Odo dropped his hand over the glass and covered it like a cloth. “Why are you doing this, Quark?” 

__

__

“I just...love kanar.” Quark had to stop in the middle of his sentence to gag as a small kanar-flavoured burp escaped and nearly made him lose his dinner. He felt weak in the knees and leaned forward to brace himself against the table. 

“Quark...” Odo clearly wasn’t buying it. 

“Okay. Okay! You’ve got me. I don’t.” Quark didn’t have the strength to argue. “I hate kanar. But it’s the only way to...urp...imprint the shame.”

“What do you mean, ‘imprint the shame’? It’s making you sick.”

“Exactly. It’s an old Ferengi trick. Today, without thinking, I put friendship before profit. It's shameful. It's un-Ferengi. If I drink enough of this...vile stuff,” Quark said, pausing to let his stomach heave, “it’ll make me think twice before doing it again.”

“And how is that supposed to work, exactly?”

“Odo, I don’t have time to explain the details to you.” It was true, but a part of Quark would have liked to so that he could delay the next mouthful of kanar. “But the idea is that I’ll experience a strong sense memory the next time I try to help a friend in a way that's detrimental to profit."

"And that's supposed to stop you?" 

"Yes, that's supposed to stop me. Now, give me that.” Quark went for the glass, but Odo snatched it away. 

“ _No_ , Quark. That’s enough.”

__

__

“It’s my property, Odo! Give it to me.” Queasily, Quark tried to jump for the glass. The sudden movement made his head spin, and he steadied himself against Odo.

Odo made his arm longer and held the glass just out of Quark's reach. "I'm confiscating this kanar under station ordinance 223.7: suspicion of deliberate contamination."

"That's not fair!" Quark scrabbled for the glass, even though it was pointless. "You don't understand..."

"Bashir to Quark." The doctor's disembodied voice sounded over Quark's personal communication system, startling Quark and Odo both. They exchanged glances.

"Shouldn't he be...busy?" Quark mouthed to Odo. Had it all gone wrong between Garak and the doctor already?

"Bashir to Quark," came the hail a second time.

"Answer it and find out," said Odo, sarcastic and _sotto voce_ , but Quark could tell he was curious too.

__

__

"Quark here. Yes, Doctor? What can I do for you?"

"Quark! Would it be possible to book two hours in the holosuite tomorrow, about eighteen hundred hours?"

Quark was suddenly nausea-free. He could feel the fuzziness in his head disappearing as blood and hope rushed to his lobes. "Just a moment, Doctor," he said as he reached for a PADD and keyed in the date and time. "Yes, holosuite one is free. Shall I arrange the secret agent programme for you?"

"Erm. No, not this time, Quark." Bashir sounded sheepish. "I'd like _The Still Waters_ , actually, if you have it. Chapter One." 

" _The Still Waters_? Yeah, I should still have it. Interesting choice, Doctor. I haven't had any requests for that since the Cardassians cleared out." Quark was conversational as he keyed in the request, but inside his heart was singing.

“Yes, I can imagine. Oh, and Quark, can you make sure there's some kanar ready in the holosuite, please? Garak said you had a nice...Porot Ssel?” Bashir pronounced the name hesitantly. 

By the Sainted Exchange, he’d known it was too good to be true. “I’m afraid we don’t have any in stock, Doctor. Would another variety do?” Quark shot an annoyed glance at Odo, who just smirked. Oh, how he’d like to dump the rest of that Porot Ssel into Odo’s bucket while he was sleeping. See how he liked it. 

“Oh? What happened to the Porot Ssel you gave me earlier this evening, Quark?” Garak joined the conversation, voice silky as ever. 

“I dropped the bottle,” Quark said flatly, glaring at Odo. 

“Oh dear. How unfortunate.”

“Yes, isn’t it? Glass everywhere. But I have a very nice Purrokko. Perfect for a special occasion.” 

“That’ll do, thank you. Please have it chilled for us.”

“Of course. Is there anything else I can do for you this evening, gentlemen?"

"No, Quark, thank you," said Bashir.

"Secret agent programme, my dear?" Garak's voice was teasingly ‘innocent’. "How intriguing. You'll have tell me more about it."

"It's nothing, Garak."

"It's clearly important to you, Doctor. I'm curious. Are you interested in spies?"

"Mmmmm. Not really. But I'm very interested in tailors..."

The line went quiet, save for some muffled wet noises and a hushed reptilian gasp or two. Odo and Quark shared another look.

"Doctor? Are you still there? I'm cutting the communication, if that's all?"

"Oh! Sorry, Quark." The doctor was a little breathless. "That's all, yes. Thank you. Bashir out."

Quark felt like dancing. 

Odo crossed his arms, the glass of kanar still firmly enclosed in one hand. "Why would a couple who are having intercourse for the first time together interrupt their night to book a _holosuite programme_?"

"Odo, that particular holosuite programme is an adaptation of the most romantic Cardassian novel ever written.” Quark shrugged. “Apparently. It was all the rage with courting couples during the Occupation. Maybe they got to talking about it. It wouldn't be strange for those two. Who cares?” 

"Hmph. Well, your mood’s improved considerably, so this is obviously not a danger to you anymore.” Odo placed the glass back on the table with a clunk. “I suppose I won’t need to confiscate it after all." He narrowed his eyes. "But I'm still keeping an eye on you, Quark. If I catch you trying to sell the rest of that bottle to Garak or any other unsuspecting customer..."

Quark shuddered at the sense memory of the kanar. It would have been nice if Doctor Bashir had called just a few minutes earlier. But no matter. "Odo, you can take that bottle and do whatever you like with it. Use it to disinfect your holding cell floors, for all I care. Just get it out of my sight.” He let loose a guffaw. 

Odo didn’t move to take the bottle. “What are you so happy about? You’re no better off than you were before. In fact, you’re still out a bottle of very expensive kanar.”

“Don’t be so suspicious!” Quark picked up the odious bottle and shoved it into Odo’s arms. “I’m happy because I’m way, way better off than I was before!”

Odo attempted to furrow his smooth brow. “How so?”

“You really don’t know? You need to read more. _The Still Waters_ is a repetitive epic. That means it's long, Odo. It’s one hundred and three chapters. And the shortest chapter takes at least four hours in the holosuite, if you do it right. Even if Doctor Bashir gets bored after the first third of the book, I'm in the money.” And he wouldn't. Doctor Bashir wasn't the sort who gave up on things, be they people, books, or extremely tedious holosuite programmes. And anyway, as if Garak, staunch champion of all things Cardassian, would let him. 

Odo paused, then nodded. "Good. I'm glad you'll be making a profit honestly for once."

Quark rolled his eyes. "Is that supposed to be insulting? Odo, nothing, not even your pathetic digs, can bring me down right now. I should have known everything would be okay. Rule of Acquisition Number 245: Profit finds a way. Now take that Porot Ssel and get out of here, will you? I have to find that holosuite programme."

"Hmph," said Odo, but he stalked out of the room, the bottle under one arm. "Goodnight, Quark."

"Goodnight, Odo." As soon as the door closed on Odo's brown back, Quark gingerly picked up the sticky glass of Porot Ssel and dropped it into the reclaimer. As it shimmered into atoms, a joyful cry of _DABO!_ penetrated the thick door of the back room. Quark grinned and thought about what really mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cultural notes:
> 
> Ferengi morality is fluid.
> 
> I've been told _The Still Waters_ is like the Cardassian version of _Beefy Tellarite Daddy_. Cardassian porn is repetitive and epic. At least the good stuff is.
> 
> Other notes:
> 
> No sin to leave a kudos or a comment! 
> 
> And thanks again to [zaan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaan/pseuds/zaan) and [AlexisaFanST](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexisaFanST/pseuds/AlexisaFanST) for betaing the second half of this fic. AlexisaFanST rightfully told me that what I'd originally written was a little out of character for Quark and suggested the bit about pouring the Porot Ssel in Odo's bucket. zaan's idea about having Julian book the holosuite was brilliant and I ran with it. 
> 
> Finally, thanks to total ledge [AuroraNova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNova/pseuds/AuroraNova) for creating this Fan Fest, and zaan for helping out! I'm so happy to be in fandom with people like you.


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